Facing Future
by Rogue Cnidarian
Summary: She's leaving home. DanielJanet; Cassie; fluff.


**Title:** Facing Future  
**Category:** Daniel/Janet-ish, Cassie, humour, fluff  
**Rating/warnings, etc:** PG. Season 7 AU, mention of _Resurrection_ and _Last Stand_. ~2000 words.  
**Disclaimer:** No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.

**A/N:** For Michelle. Kudos to Grav and her post-_Last Stand_ story, Under Cover. Cole beat the Briticisms and corralled the commas. All other mistakes are mine.

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Daniel rang the doorbell and listened to the muffled sounds inside with a smile. He'd missed them. His family, or the closest he had to one.

The door swung open, revealing a breathless young woman.

"Daniel! We've only just gotten back, 'scuse the mess…"

He peered over Cassie's shoulder. Up the corridor, a pile of clothes lay beyond the kitchen doorway and the sound of paper tearing came from within. He stepped inside. Janet was in the kitchen, brandishing a knife.

"Who was it Cass—? Oh, Daniel, hi!" She got up abruptly and launched herself in his direction. He shied away.

"Mom, knife!" Cassie reminded, rolling her eyes. "Some doctor you are…"

Attempt two was more successful. A hug and a kiss on the cheek, and then he was firmly ensconced in the Fraiser household, seated at the table, coffee in hand, while the mayhem continued around him. Apparently, he was staying for lunch.

"All this mail…" Janet returned to her knife-wielding. "It took both of us to force the door open. You _wouldn't_ believe what three weeks away—." She stopped. He gave her a look. He absolutely _would_; three weeks away was a common feature in his life, often unplanned.

"How was the beach?" he asked Cassie. Since coming to Earth, she'd been to the coast a number of times, but the novelty never really seemed to wear off. Even now, as a seventeen-year-old, it was still a source of great excitement.

"Wonderful! Number one reason for choosing a college in California." She stopped chopping vegetables and shot her mother a glance, adding hastily, "after the 'good department' check, of course."

Janet merely raised her eyebrows. He bit his lip.

They'd been on a road trip of sorts – an extended viewing of potential colleges for Cassie to apply to. Rather than her flying to each one, or trying to cram them into a few days, Janet had gotten the time off to take a more leisurely tour of the institutions west of Colorado. With some sightseeing thrown in. They'd both come back happy and relaxed. Daniel found himself drawn to the smattering of freckles the sun had brought out on Janet's nose.

"How was the drive?" he asked, to cover. It had been a fair distance and though Cassie was old enough to drive, the powers that be were taking their time getting hold of the "correct" documentation for her. Janet had called them a number of times to no avail; SG-1 had even discussed the option of sending a livid teenager down to their office to see if that would speed things up. Consequently, it meant Janet couldn't share the drive.

"Oh yes, fine. The traffic wasn't too bad and the weather held. The only problem was that people kept beeping their horns." Janet turned to glare at the back of her daughter's head. "I thought there was something wrong with the car until I discovered _someone_ had stuck a 'Honk If You're Horny' sign to the back. Practically all the way from Carmel!"

A stifled giggle came from the direction of the salad bowl. Daniel could see Janet fighting to keep the amusement off her face. He bit his lip again, harder.

They were cleaning up after lunch when the doorbell rang, prompting a mad scramble from both Cassie and the dog. Daniel pressed himself to the countertop to avoid a trampling, blinking at Janet in their wake.

She smirked and carried on rinsing the dishes. "That dog's not going to know what to do with himself when she goes."

_Nor are you_, Daniel thought with a pang. They were all going to miss Cassie terribly, but Janet would be the one coming home to a quiet, empty house. He threw the dishtowel over his shoulder and reached out to touch her arm. She looked up sharply, her eyes suspiciously bright all of a sudden. Daniel simply smiled gently and he could read the gratitude in her expression when he didn't try to say anything. Nothing felt like enough.

"Mom?" Cassie yelled and they both jumped slightly, the moment broken. The teenager appeared in the doorway. "Laura's here, we're gonna hit the mall, 'k?"

Janet nodded. "Fine. Could you try and get a box of laundry detergent while you're there?"

"Sure. The latest fashion accessory..." Cassie grumbled good-naturedly.

"Well, since most of that pile is _yours_…" Janet shot back.

Cassie stuck out her tongue, flipped Daniel a wave and disappeared down the corridor. There was giggling before the front door closed and then he heard the sounds of a car pulling off. When he turned back, Janet was drying her hands, a wry smile on her face.

"I might not miss _that_, though," she added, nodding in the vague direction of her recently departed daughter and acknowledging the silent conversation that Cassie had interrupted. Daniel reached for the last of the dishes, but Janet caught his hand. "Leave that. Come sit down with me. My afternoon plan involved nothing more than enjoying the peace…but if you're with me I can justify a glass of wine." She grinned impishly.

"Glad to know I have my uses," he said, feigning hurt feelings as she grabbed the bottle of wine. She made a face at him on her way out of the room. He located two glasses and followed her into the den.

"Then again, I suppose it is only fair…" he reassessed, settling back into the cushions. The Fraiser den was quite possibly the most comfortable, comforting place in the entire state. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

"What is?" Janet asked over the slosh of the wine decanting.

"This," he indicated their situation with a lazy twitch of his hand – he was far too relaxed to do much more – and kept his eyes closed. "You, using me to rationalize your wine-drinking on a Thursday afternoon. You could claim it's in return for making me lunch."

"Oh, pshh," she demurred. "It was no bother, Daniel."

"It's not the first time, either," he continued.

"Okay, let's say you owe me dinner then," she said, nudging his hand with the wine glass.

He opened his eyes to find her regarding him, humour and a hint of a challenge sparkling in her eyes.

He blinked, belatedly taking the glass from her, and then took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Okay…" he returned, "I, ah, I think I recall you being partial to Italian food and there's a place that Sam mentioned was very good." He fought the urge to adjust his glasses. "Not that we have to have Italian…" he added hastily and trailed off. Janet's eyebrows were raised; her wine paused halfway to her lips.

He watched her redden slightly, obviously flustered. "You don't—I mean, I love Italian, but dinner at yours is enough, I didn't—." She stopped and Daniel realised he'd never seen her anything less than completely articulate before. He waited as she gathered herself. "If Italian is alright with you…that sounds perfect."

A soft smile touched her lips. His breath caught a little, unexpectedly, so he simply nodded once, firmly, to bolster his courage.

"It is, isn't it?" she asked, an earnest look replacing the smile.

He paused. Why did these conversations never turn out smoothly? He tried not to look too confused. "Um, what is?"

"For you. Alright. Italian," she said, providing no clarity whatsoever. Just as he was debating whether to ask again, she laughed. "OK, I'm making no sense."

Daniel caught himself starting to shake his head in agreement and hastily rearranged his expression to resemble denial instead.

She tried again. "I wasn't trying to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry. Dinner would be lovely, but you know you don't owe me anything." She reached over and squeezed his arm gently.

"I know. I hadn't planned on asking like this—or at all, really, I just…" He stopped, moved his wandering gaze from the carpet, table, wine glass, to her hand on his arm and then to her face. "I'm not asking you out of obligation. And it's nothing to do with, with...payment for previous meals. I'm asking you because I want to. I've been talking myself out of this for a while now."

Well, there it was. He wanted to look away but he held her gaze, watching the flash of shocked comprehension and the subtle flush of pleasure that followed close behind.

"So I'd best say yes in case this is a one-time only offer?" she teased gently. It was exactly the tone he needed to hear, taking the edge off what felt like a monumental step.

He took a sip of his wine to cover the bashful expression he knew was showing on his face.

"Now, I think I remember how this goes," he said, continuing with the re-gained easy banter. Her eyes twinkled, and he was comforted by the knowledge that he wasn't the only one with reason to feel rusty. "Step two, I believe. I'm supposed to arrange a time to pick you up. But…"

"…the step-by-step guide doesn't take into account that bad guys work crazy hours?" she finished.

"Yeah." He blew out a breath. "Though, if I get called in, I suppose I could always try fighting the Goa'uld in a shirt and tie."

"You've worn stranger," she reminded, laughter in her voice. He was willing to bet she was thinking of the armbands worn for a secret Goa'uld meeting he'd attended two years ago. Like he could forget. Jack had been forced to order Sam and Janet into different rooms after one too many bouts of uncontrollable giggling.

"How about next Thursday, tentatively?" he suggested.

"Thursday… Yes, that works. I'm at the Academy, so I'm less likely to be held up." She smiled, looking pleased.

"Great," he said, feeling slightly inane again.

He had to admit, this was one of the reasons he'd been so apprehensive. Along with the problem of attempting a relationship with the omnipresent strains of injury and loss, there was simply the fact that he treasured her friendship and was reluctant to risk changing that. He didn't want to lose the easy companionship, the way he could talk to her about anything, anytime. He shouldn't, he knew; the best relationships were built on those foundations, but it was a fear he held. Especially when he was awkward like this.

"So," she said, brightly. "Tell me about your week. Weeks." She waved away the detail. "Plenty of time for a good SGC drama."

"The drama was actually off-base. LA, funnily enough." He smiled wryly. His California jaunt couldn't have been more different to the Fraiser road trip. "NID related. I'd tell you more but…"

"Classified. Of course." Janet put her empty wine glass down and settled back into the couch. He found himself subconsciously slipping into story-telling mode.

"Then there was a mission where the locals refused to speak in the presence of either me or Sam, simply because we had blue eyes. They believed we could 'see beyond' what was there and, though they let Jack convince them we weren't evil ourselves, they still pulled him to the side to whisper everything." Daniel grinned at the memory. "Sam wanted to find out more about some nearby structures emitting energy readings and Jack had to relay every spoken word."

Janet winced. "And I'll bet he tried to paraphrase and they wouldn't let him?"

Daniel nodded. "He was just glad there wasn't some great big ruin in the vicinity about which I could ask a million questions."

She laughed and then moved to get up, reaching for the wine. "I'm going to put this away before I drink any more, if that's alright?"

"Probably wise," he agreed. "Wait, let me get it; you stay there." He batted her hand and picked up the glasses. "I want to hear about your trip."

She paused for a moment, then reluctantly sat back. "You mean apart from that Cassie-related mischief?"

"Singular? I'm positive that couldn't have been the only incident," Daniel threw her a disbelieving look and headed to the kitchen.

Janet snorted indelicately. "Three guesses where she's picked _that_ up from," she called after him.

He could hardly deny it. "I know you missed him, really."

Janet chose not to dignify that with a response. Once by the sink, Daniel washed the glasses and returned the wine to the refrigerator. He hesitated, throwing a quick glance at the doorway, then found the dishtowel and finished drying the pans he'd left earlier. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

He re-entered the den, the alcohol pleasantly warm in his stomach. It'd be a little while before he could drive. Not that he particularly wanted to leave, but Cassie would be home later with her friends in tow. If he wanted to be a part of Janet's life, then he'd have to take the whole package, he knew, but a gaggle of whirlwind teenagers was his definition of "deep end". One step at a time.

"So, you left the Springs and then…?" he prompted in the direction of the couch. He could just see the top of Janet's head over the back, but she didn't move or reply when he spoke. He frowned. "Janet?"

Still no answer and, when he took the final step around, it became apparent why. Her eyes were closed, hands linked and resting across her midriff as she breathed deeply. He watched her for a long moment. In sleep she looked slightly younger – certainly more carefree – and a whole lot less indomitable.

There was no need to disturb her, so he tiptoed to the bookcase, selecting a promising title, and then carefully sat down at the other end of the couch. The trip tales could wait.

He relaxed against the cushions. Next year was going to be an adjustment for Janet after spending seven years dedicated to her daughter and her job. But, for now at least, he could make sure that when she woke it wasn't to an empty house.


End file.
